


Armoured Devotion

by Obsessive_Fangirl



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-26 01:33:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15653049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Obsessive_Fangirl/pseuds/Obsessive_Fangirl
Summary: For OQ Angst Fest, a flashforward of Bulletproof Love (at least a few chapters ahead).This fills prompts:23. I can’t just sit by and watch you suffer.25. Are you even listening to me?42. It’s not your fault44. I’m not going anywhere





	Armoured Devotion

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve tried not to include anything too spoilery in this, but I’m sure some things will have slipped through.
> 
> I guess this can be read as a stand-alone, but it’ll make more sense if you’ve read the stuff for Bulletproof Love I’ve posted first.
> 
> Trigger warning: There’s a bit of violence in this, and a touch of torture which includes blades. So please avoid this one if that’s not for you.

 

Consciousness hit Robin like a truck, startling him out of his painless sleep and bringing him back into the real world. 

His head hurt from where he’d been struck, a single blow which had strategically knocked him straight out and rendered him a dead weight on the floor. He’d been moved since then though; his arms and legs were now tied to a chair, and from the telltale ache in his neck, it felt like he’d been here a while. 

Lifting his head, Robin eyed his surroundings. There was nothing that could be used to work out where he was: the room was just grey concrete. Four walls, a floor, a ceiling… There weren’t even any windows - which probably meant he was underground. 

Though then his gaze fell to a tray which had been wheeled in and placed next to him, an assortment of tools left uncovered for his perusal. 

A scalpel, pliers, screwdriver, hammer, all tools ready to inflict injury. 

Robin knew the tactic - he’d even employed it before - it was psychological; let your target see several tools and give them time to imagine what could be done with them. Then, draw your target into a polite conversation to lull them into a false sense of security, before surprising them with sudden physical contact. 

He knew what was coming. He was no amateur. 

And sure enough, the door opened behind him, and he sat and listened as footsteps made their way closer to him. 

“I’m sorry for leaving you here so long,” a feminine voice said from his 7 o'clock position. “My partner had some other business to attend to.” 

Robin’s eyes fell to the floor to his left, and sure enough, he saw the woman who had spoken emerge. 

She looked tough, hardened, and Robin couldn’t help but wonder what happened to her to make her resort to torturing people. But then again, when she stood in front of him, placed a hand on the back of his chair and leant down to be face to face, there was a dark glint in her eyes that he found unnerving. This woman was surely deadly. 

“What’s your name?” She asked. 

Robin inwardly smirked. He wasn’t that easy. Instead he immediately countered; “what’s yours?” 

To be fair to her, she actually answered - with no hint of dishonesty in her tone. “My name’s Tamara.” 

Holding her gaze, Robin weighed up the pros and cons of giving her his real name. It’d only be his first name, so she couldn’t do much with that, but maybe it would win him some brownie points. 

And so he gave her a short acknowledging nod of his head, as he divulged: “Robin.” 

Tamara gave a smile that was fooling neither of them. “It’s nice to meet you, Robin.”

“I would shake your hand but…” Looking down, Robin wiggled his arms where they were tied to the chair armrests. 

“We need to know what you’re doing here,” Tamara said, standing straight. That seemed to be the end of their formalities. 

“Well, I’m currently being asked questions whilst tied to a chair,” Robin sassed. “What are you doing here?” 

His sense of humour wasn’t appreciated, and Tamara folded her arms across her torso. “Now is not the time to be funny, Robin. You need to tell me what I want to know.” 

“And if I don’t?” He tried, holding his chin high in a silent display of resilience. 

She smiled, and then before he could blink her fist made contact with his jaw, jolting his head away from her. 

And  _ there _ was the sudden contact he’d expected. 

If she thought he was going to give her anything, she had another thing coming. He’d dealt with a lot worse, she had a long way to go before he even considered answering. 

“Why are you here?” She asked again. 

Robin paused, making her believe he was thinking about giving up, and then smirking; “because some crazy lady decided to drag me in here and conduct an interrogation.”

She hit him again, the other side of his jaw this time. Well… at least he’d have equal bruises. 

“Answer me,” she demanded. “ _ Why _ are you  _ here _ ?” 

“Destiny.”

Robin gritted his jaw, ready to take another hit, but this time her knuckles made contact with the high point of his cheekbone, and even he had to admit that hurt. 

Trying to ignore the throbbing in his cheek, Robin looked up at her, waiting for her to ask again. 

Sure enough, she delivered, holding his gaze as she demanded: “just tell me  _ something _ .”

“Apparently, it actually takes 142.18 licks to reach the center of a Tootsie pop…”

The second hit to his cheek was worth it, if only for the frustrated growl Tamara let out beforehand. 

"It appears you are just as forthcoming with information as your partner."   
Robin frowned. "Partner?"   
He was working this as a solo op, nobody should have been tailing him. Whoever this person was, they were nothing to do with him. 

Oh well, if they wanted to try and use this ‘partner’ against him, they could go ahead. He couldn’t care less about what happened to a stranger.

Tamara walked around him, and not long after he heard the door being opened behind him. He was sat in silence for a few moments, but that was interrupted by the unmistakable screech of steel on concrete, the same screech that his own chair had made with the force of Tamara's blows. 

Robin watched as Tamara strolled back in, pulling a chair on its hind legs behind her. It was only when the chair and its occupant were  positioned in front of him that he realised who she was calling his partner.    


Regina...    
What the  _ hell _ was she doing here?   
He was about to ask her when he realised that would practically give this woman all the permission she needed to beat the shit out of them both for information. Partners were bargaining chips. The thought of Regina getting hurt because of his refusal to share information was not something he ever wanted to make happen.    
As far as everyone was concerned, he knew absolutely nothing about the woman sat in front of him. 

Though as he subtly checked her over, he noted her busted lip, her swollen cheekbone, and a nasty graze on her forehead...   
It was a fight to keep his rage in check.    
When he got out of this, Tamara would be sorry. How  _ dare _ she lay a hand on Regina?    
“Now then, Robin, I’m going to ask you again,” Tamara started. “Why are you here?” 

Robin looked to Regina, who was sat glaring at the woman stood next to her, and he couldn’t help but let anger seep into his tone as he sassed: “I decided to go for a stroll and got kidnapped.” 

He waited for another punch to his face - welcomed it if it stopped his mind running - but Robin watched as Tamara’s fist made contact with Regina’s cheek instead. 

Robin fought not to react too much, he needed to ignore their relationship. Whatever their relationship actually was now.

He gritted his jaw, fighting not to show any emotion even though ire was setting his veins alight. When he got out, Tamara wouldn’t know what hit her. 

Well… she would. He’d given her his name after all. 

“Now then, this is how it’s going to work; I’m going to go and fetch my partner, and in the meantime, you two can get your stories straight,” Tamara stated. “And just so you know; my partner and I have always gotten an answer out of the people we interrogate. One way or another.” 

Her eyes fell to the tray, a smirk growing on her face before she turned and left, leaving the two of them alone. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Robin asked the moment the door shut. 

Regina scoffed. “What am  _ I _ doing here?”

“Yes. Because I know what I am here for, and I don’t see why you’d need it.” 

“What’s that?” 

“For goodness sake, Regina, we don’t have much time,” Robin snapped. “Why are you here?” 

Her lips pressed together, and she made it quite obvious that she wasn’t happy with the situation, but answered anyway; “I had intel that something was going to go down in this building. If I stopped it, someone I hate would be inconvenienced.” 

“I'm here for der Mönch Fass blueprints,” Robin admitted.

He watched as her brow furrowed, taking a second to internally translate.

“The Friar’s Keg? As in  _ The Friar’s Keg _ ?” Regina asked, her eyes going wide. “Robin, that’s plans for a nuclear weapon. We can’t let them get that.” 

“I have no intention of telling them anything,” Robin assured. “If I could just…”

Robin slumped down in his seat and lifted his hips, trying to use one of his tied hands to reach into his pocket. 

“What are you doing?” Regina inquired, looking at him as if he was a child she needed to babysit. “You look ridiculous.”

“You won’t be calling me names when my team provide backup,” he retorted.

Regina glanced at the door, before lowering her voice to ask: “You’re going to call them?” 

“Not exactly.” Robin grinned when his fingers brushed against what he was looking for, wiggling it up so he could reach the button on the top. “It’s kind of like a distress beacon; I press it, and an alert gets sent to them with my location. They’ll be here in twenty minutes.” 

Regina hummed, actually looking impressed. “Twenty minutes?” 

“Yup.” Robin sat back up in his chair, trying to make it look as if he’d barely moved. “Now all we have to do is work out what to do in those twenty minutes.” 

“We do what we’ve already been doing; distract them.” 

Robin realised what she was insinuating, and he didn’t like it one bit. “Regina… no.”

“Robin, you’re already getting under Tamara’s skin, more than I did. If you keep going you could turn the tables on her.” 

“Yes, and in the meantime she’ll just keep on hurting you,” he pointed out.

“Do you think this is the first time I’ve been strapped down and tortured?” Regina asked, as if the notion was simply ridiculous. “I can handle it. I’ve dealt with worse.” 

“Regina… I…” Robin paused, knowing that they probably weren’t at this stage yet, but still couldn’t help himself from telling her; “I can’t just sit by and watch you suffer.” 

“Robin-”

“Every time I refuse to answer she’ll hurt you,” he stated. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“It’s not your fault,” Regina insisted. “And it’s only twenty minutes.”

“A lot can happen in twenty minutes.” 

“You’re not listening to me,” she griped, obviously frustrated. “Stop worrying. And if you get a chance to escape, take it. I’ll be fine.”

Robin laughed. How could the thought even occur to her? 

“Regina, I’m not going anywhere.”

“You have to.”

“If it was me could you do it?” Robin asked. “Could you honestly just sit there and watch me get hurt? Leave me alone with people who want to torture me?”

Her silence was all he needed for an answer, and it came keen more than any punch to the face. 

“Right. At least I know where I stand now…”

“Robin-”

“I thought we were…” he started, before trailing off with a scoff. “Never mind. Forget it.”

“Look, Robin…”

Then the door opened, cutting short whatever she was going to say. Maybe it was for the best.

Regina’s eyes flicked to the corner, and as Robin listened, he could hear two distinct sets of footprints. It seemed Tamara had found her partner. 

“Robin, Regina,” Tamara started, as she stood in their line of sight. “Meet Greg.” 

She stepped to the side, revealing the guy she had been talking about. Robin glared up at him, taking in the half bald haircut and stupid jacket, and already deciding to hate him. Though when he noted how he was staring at Regina, a dark glare filled with ire, Robin already wanted to get his hands on him. Or more specifically: around his neck. 

“So, Robin,” Tamara started, “I told you-”

“No.”

Everyone turned to look at Greg, his interruption obviously not part of the plan. 

“What are you doing?” Tamara hissed through her teeth, stepping closer to him so they could whisper between them without their captives hearing. 

Greg said something in Tamara’s ear, and the way her gaze turned to Regina had nervousness flowing through Robin’s veins. Regina didn’t look too happy about it either. 

A moment later, Tamara smirked, coming to stand next to Robin as Greg stood by Regina. 

“Why are you here Robin?” She asked, but the expression on her face this time was almost as if she didn’t want him to answer.

He didn’t like the thought of doing what she wanted, but he hated the thought of spilling the truth more, and so he stuck up his chin and defiantly stated: “I’m not telling you anything.” 

With his gaze locked on Robin’s, Greg reached down and grabbed Regina’s pinkie, bending it back until there was a snap and a gasp of pain.

It was a sound Robin hoped he’d never hear again - though somehow he knew that wouldn’t be the case.

“Alright, let’s try something else: Who do you work for?”

Robin glanced up at Tamara, hardening his glare as he spat: “Fucking Santa Claus.”

Tamara nodded at Greg, and with that he reached for Regina’s ring finger and gave it the same treatment as her pinkie. 

“You’re not doing her any favours, you know,” Greg stated, gripping tighter until Regina whimpered again. 

“Tell us what we want to know, and she’ll die quickly and painlessly,” Tamara bargained. If she thought that would make Robin talk she’d be greatly disappointed. Greg cleared his throat from behind her, and she amended her statement to: “ _ relatively _ quickly and painlessly.”

Robin's eyes glanced over to Regina, and he noticed the minute shake of her head.    
His men were on the way. They just needed to hang on until then. 

Which meant no quick deaths.    
Robin took a moment to accept he was going to see Regina hurt again, taking in a breath and allowing himself those few seconds to worry about her. He tried to let all that dissipate as he exhaled.    
When he looked back up to Tamara, his eyes were hard, cold, filled with hatred at the position he had been put in. "I'm not telling you anything."   
"I tried to be fair," Tamara sighed, before turning back to Greg and drawling; "your turn, babe.”

Robin watched as Greg started slowly pacing around Regina, making his way over to where the tray of torturous implements were. Despite all his earlier calmness at the sight of them, Robin suddenly feared them, feared what Greg will do with them. 

His fingers trailed over the scalpel before he grasped the handle of it, the underlying threat a stark contrast to the way he casually asked: “Do you like baseball, Regina?” 

The question threw her, and Robin watched her face as she tried to work out his angle. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

“Just answer the question.”

“I’ve been to a game or two,” she admitted.

“My father used to take me every month,” Greg stated. “It was our treat all the way through my childhood.”

Regina made a show of yawning, sounding bored as she poked the bear and asked: “Is there a point to telling me this?”

“Yes. You see, when I was thirteen, we went to this game between White Sox and the Royals. It was a fantastic game, I remember standing on my chair and cheering my heart out…”

Robin watched as something flickered behind Regina’s eyes, her breathing becoming controlled and measured. It was nothing that Greg would pick up on - hopefully - though Robin couldn’t help but wonder what was going through her mind.

“I remember every single detail about this game, for one simple reason; it was the last one me and my dad ever went to.” Greg swallowed hard, his emotions getting the better of him as he told his tale. “I’d left mid way through the second half to get a soda, but then I heard this woman scream… I raced back, but I just knew it was my Dad. He’d been shot. Killed. His entire life ended just like that.”

“Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?” Regina deadpanned. “We’ve all lost people.”

“My Dad was  _ murdered _ . And I’ve been searching for the person who did it for so many years. I even joined Pan’s Agency because I discovered the person who did it was working in a rival organisation.” In a split second he’d grabbed a handful of Regina’s hair and pulled her head back, holding the scalpel to her throat. “It was you.” 

Robin’s hands gripped the chair he was tied to, trying not to yell or fight or do anything to make the situation worse. He could see the blade pressing against her skin, not hard enough to break though, but hard enough for the surrounding area to turn white with the pressure. 

This cannot be how her life ended. He’d only just gotten to know her. He couldn’t lose anyone else. 

“Are you going to kill me?” Regina asked, her voice quiet and level, and the lack of emotion or fear in her question scared Robin. Had she already made her peace with not getting out? Is that why she had asked him to escape? 

Regardless, he wasn’t leaving without her. 

“Eventually,” Greg answered. “But I have waited such a long time for this. You have no idea of the punishments I have devised for you, all the ways I could make you suffer. You’re going to die, but I’m going to make you beg for death first.” 

“Good luck with that.” A small smirk grew on Regina’s face, and obviously she didn’t have the same desire to keep things under control as she sniped: “Because listening to you has been enough suffering for today.” 

Greg’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he let go of Regina’s hair with enough force to shove her head forward. “Fine. Then  _ you _ can do the talking. Admit what you did.” 

Regina’s eyes flickered up, and she put on an obviously fake grin. “Say please?” 

He grabbed the fingers he’d broken, a smile quirking his lips as the air whooshed out of her lungs. “That’s not the answer I was looking for.” 

Robin gritted his jaw, putting in all his effort to keep his anger in check. The sadistic motherfucker. 

“Admit it,” Greg demanded. 

Regina let out a soft scoff. “I’m not that easily broken, I’m afraid.”

“I guess not,” he agreed. “I can see Tamara has already had a go at you.”

Greg bent at the waist, bringing his face level with Regina’s. “It’s a pity she left marks,” he started, trailing a finger down her cheek. “I’m sure you used to be much prettier to look at.”

In a split second Regina had jolted forward, obviously intending to pummel the guy but forgetting she was tied down to a chair. 

Her sudden movement had startled Greg, making him jerk back and stand straight again. A low chuckle escaped his lips, and Regina’s glare hardened, her voice turning dark and dangerous as she muttered: "You are very lucky I'm tied up right now."   
Greg turned to Robin, lifting a finger to point in Regina’s direction as he told him; "you should get your woman in check."   
Robin could see how angry Regina was, could practically feel it radiating off of her. “You deserve all that's coming to you."   
“This is all  _ her _ fault,” Greg insisted. “If your partner would just admit the truth, this would all be over.”

“It seems you’re both intent on making life difficult for yourselves,” Tamara commented, crossing her arms across her chest. 

“Tell me what you did,” Greg tried again. But Regina had barely had time to blink before he raised his voice to shout: “Admit it!” 

She remained stoically quiet, though when her eyes met Robin’s he could see the helpless acceptance in her eyes, as if she already knew what was about to happen. 

Frustrated with things not going as he’d planned, Greg snapped, letting out a growl as he stabbed the scalpel right through Regina’s right hand, embedding it into the chair’s wooden arm below. 

Her head tilted back on a sharp cry, a tear falling down her cheek at the pain.

Robin couldn’t help but jolt in his chair at the sight in front of him, immediately wanting to help her - or at the very least break every bone in Greg’s body. 

“Aw, he cares for her,” Tamara mocked. 

“Good, maybe this is motivation for him to tell you what you want to know.”

Greg’s hand hovered over the tray again, fingers twitching over the remaining tools before he picked up the screwdriver. He twirled it in his hand, throwing and catching it as his gaze roamed over Regina’s body. A second later he placed it back down, choosing to pick up the hammer instead. 

“Feeling talkative yet, Robin?” Tamara asked.

Robin eyed the hammer in Greg’s hand, knowing he couldn’t tell them anything, but dreading what would happen if he didn’t say something soon. He managed to stay quiet until Greg raised his hand, lifting the hammer to hover over Regina. 

This would cause damage, wherever he hit her. He didn’t want to see this, didn’t want to hear the metal impact her bones. 

“Wait. Stop,” Robin whispered, dropping his gaze to the floor as he added a quiet: “that’s enough.”

“Oh, believe me,” Greg chuckled, a sadistic smile growing on his face. “I’m just getting started.”


End file.
